So then This Whole Thing Happened
<p class="">For years now I haven’t blogged regularly because I’ve been busy with stay-at-home-momming and nannying for a variety of friends’ and family’s kids, etc. I just didn’t feel compelled to write much, I guess because I was channeling my
For years now I haven’t blogged regularly because I’ve been busy with stay-at-home-momming and nannying for a variety of friends’ and family’s kids, etc. I just didn’t feel compelled to write much, I guess because I was channeling my creative energy into gardening and baking and parenting in a sane, non-pressure-filled way, at least as much as possible. Being more present in the moment rather than being extra reflective. Then at times when I’ve felt extra reflective, I’ve written (like when Harry had surgery, or when Nanny died last year).
Part of me feels a tiny bit of something—not quite loss, not quite regret, but a feeling in that family of melancholy emotions—that I *haven’t* written extensively through Oliver and Harry’s baby- and toddlerhood the way I did with Ethan. But I do have Facebook and Instagram posts for them, which I didn’t really for Ethan because when he was tiny those weren’t something that existed. Tradeoffs.
So then This Whole Thing Happened. Noah has been working at home since last Monday, and the kids have been home from school for the same amount of time. We just got word that school will now be closed until at least May 15.
We’re managing pretty well. The weekend before This Whole Thing Happened, I started to feel some anxiety about the fact that while everyone else’s office was about to empty out, mine was about to get way more crowded. So I laid down some ground rules and expectations as the resident expert in being at home all day every day, and so far they’ve worked. We have a loose schedule for when it’s appropriate to be on screens, when the kids are to do schoolwork and where, when to play not on screens, how to conduct ourselves when Harry is napping, how to conduct ourselves with regard to dirty dishes and tidying, etc.
I’ve also been incredibly grateful for our new covered, screened porch. Our deck was moldering and literally had dangerous holes in it, so this past fall we were able to take out a reasonable loan and not only get it fixed, but upgraded to said screened, roofed version, and a larger one at that.
In a house that’s around 1,100 square feet, having 140 more square feet of semi-outdoor space has proven invaluable since This Whole Thing Happened. It’s another place to physically be. It allows for fresh air even when it’s raining.
This morning, after giving Ethan a bolstering hug (he was feeling temporarily overwhelmed by figuring out a new aspect of online school), I stood at his and Oliver’s bedroom window and looked out across our backyard. For twelve years now, we’ve slowly worked on our garden and yard so that now it feels like we have Grounds. Like, I was looking out over our grounds. We have defined sections, like a potager (aka kitchen garden), a small orchard of dwarf species, some beautiful flowering beds, extensive privet hedges (more on that at a later time; incredibly, I can say “it’s complicated” about our flowering beds and privet hedges), a fort/play set, chicken coops, a tiny DIY barn (the plans for which I invented), a small but substantial stand of mature native trees, the pool yard which is currently a digging-in-the-gravel zone, the berms and swales outside the kitchen window that grow strawberries and blueberries and elderberries and paw-paws. We have an impressive collection of bird neighbors (more on birding at a later time) who we observe daily. I mean, that all sounds pretty good, huh?
It is! Though our house is small, it’s very comfortable and it’s ours. We have truly beautiful outdoor spaces—including an underground spring that we’ve turned into a seasonal mini creek, featuring footbridge! Since This Whole Thing Happened, I feel almost embarrassingly fortunate.
Which leads me to some current gratitudes/worries.
1) My husband has a job that he can largely do remotely, so we aren’t losing income. / There are so many people for whom this is not true. I’m very worried for hourly workers and restaurants and their employees etc. etc. etc.
2) We are both savvy learners and Noah has tech skills, so it’s been relatively painless to support our kids in their new school scenario. / Both our kids’ schools are Title 1, meaning low income. Meaning lots of the kids at their schools DON’T have food security and strong support systems and how badly are they going to fall through the cracks through no fault of teachers, but just the realities of social distancing. They’re being socially distanced from perhaps their best resources.
3) I’m in a happy, healthy relationship with children who don’t have complex special needs. / Can you imagine being homebound and in a rocky relationship? Or with kids who have developmental or behavioral problems at the best of times? I hope you aren’t one of those people, but there must be many many people for whom being at home all the time isn’t a happy situation. Also, many people may be very lonely, specifically the elderly, of whom there are several in my life.
Anyway, this is where I’m at. I ventured to Walmart on Friday at 1 pm—I tried to do the online order and pick up, but our Walmart had literally zero time slots available for the foreseeable future, repeat literally—and it was alternatively fine and post-apocalyptic. There was plenty of Easter candy. There was no flour, almost no pasta, etc. One could buy Clausen sandwich pickles, but good luck with bread for the sandwiches. Oh, and product availability leads me to current gratitude/worry #4…
4) As a lupus patient, I have taken hydroxychloroquine every day for several years. There has been speculation that its immune-suppressing qualities may help severe Covid-19 sufferers. It is a *common* medication, but its price has also fluctuated in the past based on production because it’s also an anti-malarial. This has me feeling grateful that I already take a drug that may actually help with Covid symptoms. / Of course, the president has talked about this, which makes me concerned for the availability. I’ve *always* felt weirdly guilty that I can just walk into my pharmacy and buy an anti-malarial drug for not-even-malaria when malaria is a huge issue for many many people around the world. Now I’m worried about availability even for myself.